


00Q or There Abouts

by HurricaneChaos



Series: The 00Q Archive [1]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-11-19 00:16:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11301801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HurricaneChaos/pseuds/HurricaneChaos
Summary: Just a series of prompts about 00Q. They won't always be in a relationship which is the 'there abouts' thing.Shall we proceed?





	1. Getting Lost

Early morning Sun hits the bonnet of the car through the high rises of New York, turning the red to gold. Q settles into the cool leather seat while Bond drives, the assassin and his Quartermaster deciding to take a trip out, neither able to sleep due to jet lag.

Q stares absently out of the window, watching the sun bounce and reflect off of the glass skyscrapers, transforming the sidewalk into an ocean of light. 

The two of them had been sent on a mission abroad to track and eliminate an ex-agents partner who was going to whistle-blow on the British Secret Service, and, being unable to do anything without support, Bond had chosen Q to travel with him under the pretense of Q being 'less annoying' and 'actually good at what he's paid to do'. In fact, James just wanted to spend some more time with the man at the end of the line. They usually spent hours talking to one another over the comms but it's nice to spend time face to face, so James had seized upon both the opportunity to take Q away and to go for a morning walk before their work began.

 

After about another half an hour, well, 32 minutes according to Q's watch, they were still heading in the wrong direction and James was looking considerably more grumpy.

"James?" Q spoke up, hesitantly, looking vaguely irritated himself. He hadn't slept in 36 hours, he wanted to relax, do the job and come home.

"Yes?" Bond replies, flicking the car around yet another corner.

"You've never been to New York City before, have you?" Q bites back a smile, turning his head back towards the window when his attempt fails.

"Q." He says, exasperated. "I'm a highly trained assassin, capable of mapping any place with several back up routes. I kill and travel for a living." He growls. "I'm not lost." He adds, causing Q to smile wider. Pulling himself together he retorts.

"I never said you were." He is enjoying winding the elder up. "Though, do remember that I guide you everywhere and if I wasn't for me, you would have died several times over by now." He can see James roll his eyes out of the corner of his own.

"I can kill you in 47 different ways in this very moment. I am not lost." He is determined not to give in.

"Well, seen as though we left Brooklyn/Kings at 6:30 AM today and we were aiming to get to Upper Manhattan by 7:30 AM, I find it somewhat impressive that you've taken us into Queens, and it is now 8:03 AM. It's even more impressive considering the Americans build with straight lines." Q retorts, happy he put James back in his place. Q watches the buildings flash past for a small while longer before James pipes up again.

"Q?" He is hesitant, almost ashamed.

"Yes, not lost one?" Q smiles cheekily at him, though James has his eyes fixed on the road for once.

"I'm lost." He admits after a moment. Q relishes in the moment, fighting back a laugh but allowing a triumphant grin to grace his features.

"Take the next left." Q coughs, hiding the laughter. Guiding them quickly through the streets, the pair finally arrive at the park near to where the operation would take place later in Upper East side. "Park." He commands and James obeys unquestioningly.

"How do you know so much about everywhere?" The elder asks, curious.

"I spend my life guiding people all over the world, including you, James. It's force of habit to memorize a map and have exact spatial awareness at all times." Q responds honestly, pulling James out of the car. "Now, let's go get lost, shall we?"

They do get lost in the park after sitting down and losing their bearings but it makes it all the more fun. Being in suits, they did not stand out among the morning commuters, though the feeling between the two of them was a lot more casual. Enjoying the sun, for once the pair relax.


	2. Pet Names

"Oh, fuck off." Q mutters to himself as his plan goes to shit yet again. This was the third time Q had tried to salvage the wreck of a mission and with Bond going off on yet another one of his plans, Q was a little more than strained. Even Erik, his most trusted techie had decided to stay away.

"Turn right. Turn right! I said right! Right!" Q screams in a voice completely unlike his own, the stress finally getting to him. "Alright. Fuck it, Erik! Come here." The man appears besides him as Q hands him the controls before storming off, sending people scurrying. Nobody wanted to get in his way, a look of near murder painting his usually innocent features. Everybody winces when the door to his office slams with such force it sets off three prototypes.

 

Many hours later, Q emerges from his hiding spot, considerably calmer and more collected.

"How did you do? Was the mission a success?" Q asks, stopping a terrified woman who was walking away from the control centre.

"The mission was a success, sir. All agents are still active." She responds and he nods absently, knowing he is about to go and apologise.

"Thank you...?"

"Maria." She finishes, he blushes slightly and bows his head in shame. 

"Thank you, Maria. You must excuse me." He turns and walks back towards the centre to inspect the damage he caused.

 

The lights of the monitors throws delicate patterns of lights on the walls, surrounding and immersing Q in a world of colour and harmony. The young Quartermaster was not a fool by any means, and yet still had to fight for his right to work every day. And that is exhausting for anyone. Fighting externally for his job paired with his constant internal battle for control of his emotions towards the infamous assassin coupled with a particularly stressful day leads to catastrophic consequences.

Q sits in the middle of the swirling pool of lights until soft steps are heard coming towards him. It's Erik, and Q sighs.

"All went well, sir." He addresses Q in an unusually respectful manner, handing him the completed report.

"Sit down, Erik." He gestures to a seat. "Don't call me sir, we know one another far too well for that."

"You're stressed. I understand. But you cannot pull a stunt like that again, I've never seen people so terrified." Erik comments, pushing a mug of tea towards Q and sitting opposite him. "You know the last one that pulled a stunt like that killed four people?"

"I know, Erik. Thank you. I just couldn't cope today, though that is not an excuse." Q smiles at his friend, enjoying the warmth of the mug. Erik nods his understanding.

"Come on, let's plan for tomorrow." Erik suggests, bringing their laptops closer.

 

And that's where James finds them two hours later. The agent half strolls, half stumbles his way in, looking a little worse for wear. He pauses to watch his Quartermaster, observing how much Q was in his element, the young man's usually shy demeanor melting away as he stands before his Empire of Technology. He commands people quickly and efficiently, though does listen to suggestion, he hardly ever panics in these situations and as far as Bond could tell, today was no different. The pair had grown closer since the New York trip, the hours being forced in intimate space together does that to people, well, that's what they tell themselves anyway. Now, whenever James comes back from a mission, he makes sure Q is the first person he visits, no matter how badly beaten up.

"Hello, Queenie." James speaks softly, causing Q to jump.

"Jamie!" Q smiles widely, all traces of a stressful day gone, and pulls the elder into a hug, recoiling when James winced. "No calls, no messages, nothing, James!" He quips, but there is no real energy behind the attack, leaving it clear for everyone to see how greatful he is for James to be back.

"Surprise." Bond mutters, allowing pain to flash across his face.

"You haven't been to the medical bay yet?" Q is incredulous.

"I wanted to check in with you." James weakly defends as Q rolls his eyes affectionately.

"You knobhead." He comments, slinging James' arm around his shoulders and taking half of his weight. The pair make their way slowly out of the swirling pit of light and towards the medics who will be at the end of the hallway.

"Jerk." James whispers in retaliation.

"I'm glad you're not dead, Jamie." Q comments as the medics rush forward.

"Me too, Queenie." James mumbles as they roll him away.


	3. Patching each other up

At the first sound Q's eyes fly open. At the second stumble, he grabs the gun next to him and stands up. At the third, he advances through the apartment, gun raised and on high alert. His sharp ears pick up a fourth sound like someone falling in the kitchen followed by glass smashing. A deep groan and sliding down something, a confused Q makes his way cautiously towards the sound, there is no way he is being burgled but who else would break into his 12th floor apartment at 02:34? He rounds the corner, ready to fire but the sight stops him short.

There is blood everywhere, on the work-sides, across his cooker and down the counter. His eyes fall on James who is slumped at the bottom of his sink, the glass vase shattered across the floor. The assassin's eyes are screwed shut, head braced against the counter while his hands clasp a wound on his right side, blood seeping through his fingers, he is whimpering and panting against the pain.

"James!" Q cries, throwing his gun on the counter island and rushing to his side. The agent opens his eyes and he grabs Q's arm, leaving red standing out against his pale skin.

"Q..." He half whispers, half groans and Q isn't sure if James actually sees him or if he is guessing. He gives a small cough and a groan. "It hurts." He whimpers and Q's heart skips a beat. 

"I know, Jamie. I know." Q works his voice into a calm and soothing tone, hiding the terror that James could die on his floor. "We need to move you. Do you understand?" James nods weakly. Q grits his teeth. "I'm not going to lie, Jamie. This is going to hurt."

With that, Q grabs the elder by the hips and lifts him gently. Ignoring James' groans they make their way through Q's flat. Irritated by his own choice in décor, Q lowers James into a low lying white armchair, the type you lie it but with arms, a bit like an egg. Letting James rest a second, Q turns away to retrieve his medical kit. He doesn't get far though because James' hand grabs his arm.

"No." He sounds panicked, a rarity for Bond and frightening for Q. "Don't leave, I've only just got here." He attempts a smile but it is more of a grimace.

"I'll be right back, okay? You see that door? I'm going to be on the other side of it." James' frightened face screams no but he nods anyway. In record time Q returns with a large bag, opening it he turns back to Bond. "Okay, Jamie. I'm going to take your shirt off." Q gently removes what little of the fabric is left to reveal the wounds.

Down his right hand side is numerous scrapes, cuts and bruises with one particularly nasty looking life wound. Deep purple around the edges, it luckily doesn't look to be deep. The amount of open wounds account for the pain and amount of blood loss, though Q could be pretty sure there is no internal bleeding or broken bones. Allowing himself a ray of hope James won't have to go to hospital, Q looks up at him.

"This is going to hurt like a bitch." He warns before pulling out sterilizing pads. The instant the fabric touches James' open wounds he screams.

"Fuck! Q!" He yells, whole body tensing against the attack. His hands clamp down on the arms of the sofa as Q pulls away.

"Hey, James." Q pushes the sweat dampened hair off Bonds face before his hand traces lines into the back of James' to try and open it. "It'll be over soon." Q promises, winding his fingers into Bonds. "Just don't break my hand." Q mutters half joking and half serious before slowly continuing.

This time there is no sound from the assassin, his efforts focused on not breaking Q's hand. Q works as fast as he can with only one hand free which isn't soon enough for James. "All done." Q declares after what feels like an eternity.

Taking his hand out of Bond's he guides James' hand to his shoulder. "So, how did you get up here anyway?" Q asks as he preps the next stage. Ignoring the tense grip on his shoulder.

"Climbed." James replied through gritted teeth.

"You climbed? No wonder you're bleeding so much you idiot." Q pulls out a needle and thread from the bag.

"Save it, Q." Came the reply.

"I'm going to stitch you up now." Q states, plunging a needle into the skin near the knife wound, he waits a moment for the local anesthetic to work before picking up the needle and thread.

As the first stitch went in, James' grip on his shoulder didn't change, taking this as a good sign, Q makes short work of the injury. "How did you end up so beaten anyway?" Q asks.

"The idiots at base didn't have my back. I'm never going to trust the France Branch ever again, that's for fucking sure." James smiles at Q who looks taken aback.

"You came all the way from France like this?!" Q yells. James nods weakly and Q rolls his eyes. A hiss escapes his lips as Q moves on to the other wounds. Working quickly to minimize pain, Q notices no injuries are on James' left side. "Jamie, why are all your wounds on the right?"

"Protect my heart." Bond answers as if that was a completely logical thing to think while he's in a fight. After a few more moments of silence, Q declares that he's done, wiping up the last of the blood from James' torso.

"Q?" The young man looks up. "Stay?" Bond asks, not caring for the result.

"Sure, Jamie." Q replies, snagging a blanket before lying on James' uninjured side. He gives Bond a few painkillers and antibiotics before settling down. Q's head rests over Bond's heart, his right hand resting on James' right collar bone. James rests his left hand on Q's waist, under the cotton shirt which was remarkably unruined. Their fingers interlace as both slowly drop to sleep. James taking comfort from the warmth of Q while Q takes comfort from the heartbeat, knowing James isn't dead.

"Sorry about the chair." James mumbles.

"I hated it anyway." Q sighs, dreading the clean up job in the morning.

"I'll patch you up next time, promise." He slurs as sleep pulls him in, Q just breathes deeply settling into position for the night.


	4. Hospital Visits

"What's up, babydoll?" James strolls into the hospital room.

"That's a new one, though I don't know why you insist on calling me such idiotic names." Q grumbles through his tired smile, eyeing the brown paper bag James is holding.

"Oooh, someone hasn't slept well." James taunts, sitting in the chair opposite Q's bed. He takes in the sight of his Quartermaster. Q's eyes have dark, unhealthy rings around them, standing out sharply against his sickly pale skin.

"If you haven't noticed, _Bond._ I'm currently in a hospital where they never turn of the lights and the cleaning/night staff insist on yelling for one another from down the hall." Q returns coolly, James visibly winces and looks at the floor.

"I'm sorry, Q." He mumbles, for the first time ever looking ashamed.

"What's in the bag?" Q queries, changing the subject.

"Oh, I brought you lunch." James was thankful for the change of topic as he hands the light bag to Q. Q's eyes open in shock and happiness at the contents. He carefully pulls out a plastic tub filled with his favourite food.

"Thank you, James. But how did you know?" Q was pretty sure that he had never in fact told Bond what his favourite food was but lo and behold, here it was.

"You sometimes talk in your sleep, you also told me over comms once 'Why am I babysitting you when I could be eating' then mumbled something. I do listen you know." Bond explains as the tech lord tucks into his food.

"I get out of here on Monday." Q states quietly, if slightly awkwardly.

"Oh?" Bond replies.

"I... I will need a place to stay..." Q mumbles into his food, it takes a moment for the penny to drop with Bond.

"My flat was sold after Skyfall so the place I have now isn't great. But you can stay with me. It'll be a nice change." He smiles, the slightly broken smirk that Q adores. 

The pair sit in comfortable silence, the half eaten dish forgotten as Q struggles to keep his eyes open. Bond takes his Quartermaster's hand, comfortingly rubbing circles across his bruised knuckles, silent permission to fall asleep. 

"Stay safe, Q. Try not to get shot next time." Bond whispers, kissing his hand only when he's sure Q is not awake. Standing, he drinks in the last image of Q, frail but blissfully asleep, before closing the door and bracing himself for the bitter November weather.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this is so short, inspiration was not flowing for this one, I hope you enjoy it anyway!
> 
> \- Chaos


	5. Scar Worship

Soft clinking of glass against table tops break the silence of the night. One room was ablaze with light in the Q-Branch, everyone else had either gone home or migrated to some other part of the vast R and D facility. Two bodies sit in comfortable desk chairs, lounging around two drinks. One was a slim man, the muscles on his back a fraction tighter than the relaxed, thicker man opposite him. 

Q twists around, shirt lifting a fraction as he reaches for his phone, which he has left behind him, to check the time. It's just a glimpse but James swears he sees a scar across his hip, a thin white line of slightly raised skin that stands out against the usually smooth area.

"Q, is that a scar?" James asks, watching the other turn around. He pulls down the offending edge of material, grimacing slightly. 

"Yes, Bond. I do have them." Q answers in his usual clipped tone, the edge in his voice unmistakable.

"May I see?" Bond asks cautiously to the reproachful Quartermaster. Hesitantly, Q stands up and with trembling fingers lifts the shift up and away from his abdomen.

James can't hide his surprise, the thin line starts from his hip joint, some disappearing under the waistband of his trousers, the rest running up across his hip and straight up the side of him to just below his ribs. James notes the jagged area around where the scar suddenly changes direction, almost as if someone had slipped. It was not a mark he expected from the prim Quartermaster. He reaches gently to trace the line but stops before touching the skin, noticing the quiver in Q's breath. 

"How did you get this?" Bond breathes, watching the guarded face of Q. 

"Basic training, Bond." Q absently touches the tip of the scar. "There was a recruit, Cadet X, he was always a loose cannon." He seems to be lost in memory as he speaks. "One day during knife combat, he didn't stop attacking after H called it. I jumped between them, he got me before he was taken down. I don't know what happened to him, I can only presume they let him go." 

"You jumped in between an instructor and a cadet?" James visibly struggles to grasp the concept which prompts Q to pull down his shirt and sit back down. 

"Of course I did, besides X, I was top of the class. Who do you think test runs all your equipment before you lay your destructive hands on it? Me and my branch could run rings around all of you with our eyes closed." Q smirks, sending shots of unidentifiable emotion through the elder. 

James can't help but look at Q in a new light, awe and a savage streak of pride was coursing through him. They were normal emotions, right? 

"I'll have to witness this sometime." Bond smirks back, enjoying the concept of a challenge.

"You will."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this is such a short chapter but I really struggled with it. I will be adding scar worship into other prompts as and when it feels natural because I really do love the thought of them talking through battle scars. 
> 
> \- Chaos


	6. A Death of Someone Close

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE BE WARNED OF TRIGGERS!
> 
> THERE IS DEATH AND HOSPITALS AND IF YOU ARE AT ALL EFFECTED BY ANY OF THESE TOPICS PLEASE CONTINUE WITH CAUTION. 
> 
> Just trying to take care of you.

Q couldn't remember the last time he had slept, he couldn't remember the last time he ate, hell, he couldn't even remember the last time he had had a drink. He rubbed his tired, itching eyes, scraping his hands down his face. It must have been days since he'd been home, there was more than three days beard on his face. The clinical white was giving him a migraine, the uncomfortable plastic chair he'd grabbed from another room having sent his ass to sleep a long time ago. Even the rhythmic beeping and disturbing sucking sound was irritating his ears, it felt like something was pressing on the back of his head, a weight on the front of his brain and every small sound aggravated him. 

His clothes hang off him in a slightly disturbing way, what little weight he had gone. Standing up, the room spins dangerously. Gripping the bed for support, Q waits for the feeling to subside. He wanders over to the window, searching for an answer as to how long he had been there. Time had lost all meaning. It was dark outside, the building opposite blocking out the moon, creating a world of muted colour and shadow. Frost touched everything in sight, sparkling off the lights, each throwing more shadow than normal. It was so fragile, peaceful, oblivious to the pain, panic and sadness happening just a few meters away. A different world, because while Q's had stopped in this little room, the earth had carried on spinning as if nothing had happened. As if the world's most courageous woman was not bound to an inhumanly cold, clinically white bed for the remainder of her days. 

Catching sight of himself, Q started backwards, shock running through him. He was a mess. 

His usually vibrant eyes were dull, bloodshot and red ringed. They were highlighted by the darkest circles he had ever seen on a person and were sunken into his face. His skin was a sickly pale colour and hangs from his face in a haggard and haunted way. His lips were cracked and pale, hair beginning  to turn greasy. Fuck, he needed a hot shower, some solid food and sleep. 

Turning around his eyes fall on the reason he was here. Melanie. His sister. Her dark hair is spread across the pillow, it's one of the only things he recognises about her. 

Q feels himself being dragged into the memory. 

Sat in a briefing about a new set of weapons that need building when Sophia knocks on the door for Q. Following her little blonde head out of the room, he thinks nothing of it, this sort of thing happens all the time to sign one thing off, authorize another or help some poor cleaner with the mess his people make.  

"Sophia, what can I do for you?" Q asks closing the door carefully behind him, Sophia is usually the poor one that has to retrieve him. Today, she looks sick to her core, pale and shaky. 

"Q, there's been a call through for you." She fidgets with the cuff of her shirt. 

"There's nothing unusual about that." Q points out, the phone rings nearly off the hook on a daily basis. 

"It's a personal one." She studies his face. "It's Melanie. There's been an accident, she was in a car crash. She's in intensive care at Saint Bartholomew's Hospital. They advise that you go immediately, sir," Sophia hesitates, looking mildly sick. "She may not have much time left." 

The last memory is the floor swaying and undulating beneath his feet, stomach bottoming out. He doesn't remember running out of the building, only the nearly healed pulled muscles serve as proof, he doesn't remember taking a taxi; only the receipt, crumpled in his trouser pocket tells him that's how he got here. 

He does remember the wait, feeling like each agonizing second was trying to torture him into insanity. He does remember seeing her for the first time, counting the tubes that wound their way around her like a spiders web, the sucking and rasping of the breathing apparatus disturbing him, despite it keeping her alive. He also remembers those awful words the Doctor uttered, 'inoperable bleed on the brain, her chances of waking up... highly unlikely. I'm sorry.'  And with that knowledge the world sank back into the background, the only thing he could see was her, pale, frail and battered. 

 

The door opened gently, the sound of outside seeping into the room temporarily, crying and talking forming a melancholy melody, shut out again with the click of the door sliding back into place. Q slowly turns, facing the awful room. He leans heavily on the low windowsill, not trusting his feet to keep him standing. There is a young doctor standing before him at the foot of Melanie's bed, he looks drawn and tired, Q just stares listlessly, his appearance drawing no response from his body when normally a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach would occur. 

"Mind if I take a seat?" The young doctor asks, leaning on the bed's railing. Q shakes his head mutely, gesturing for him to sit and desperately trying to ignore the shaking of his hands. The man sits heavily on the chair at the foot of the bed, scrubbing his face and looking as exhausted as Q felt. They sit quietly, watching the artificial rise and fall of Melanie's chest. 

"How long have I been here?" Q asks finally, breaking the silence. The doctor looks perplexed. 

"You don't remember me do you?" Q just shakes his head minutely, even the smallest movement making his head spin and stomach roll. "I'm Christopher, Christopher Eastwood. You know, Mel's boyfriend." He looks away sharply, voice cracking. 

"I don't know what to say. I'm so sorry." Q replies, swimming in his own sea of pain. 

"You don't have to apologise, it's not your fault. Besides, I only met you once a few years ago." Christopher attempts a ghost of a smile at the comment, he too staring at Melanie. 

"How long have I been here?" Q asks again, growing more tired by the moment. 

"Three days. We've been here three days, Ethan." Even the use of Q's birth name elicits no response where it would usually jolt him with the infrequency of it's use. "Ethan, I've been talking to Jack - Dr Abraham, Melanie's doctor. He told me that he didn't think you took anything in the other night when he spoke to you, he asked me to remind you..." Christopher's voice breaks again with the weight of the situation. After a shaky breath he continues, "To remind you that there is very little chance of Mel waking up..." He stops to breathe again, crying freely now. "And even if she does she will have no quality of life... p... paralysed, on breathing and feeding tubes... so unlike her." He sobs, shoulders shaking. "It is recommended that we... we let her go." Christopher finally finishes, breaking down, head in hands and shoulders shaking with the sobs. 

What little of Q's world is left, crashes down around him as his legs give out, sliding down the radiator to the floor. He doesn't have it in him to think about this, hell, he doesn't even have it in him to cry. All he wants to do is wake up from this nightmare, away from the sterile walls and floors, back into the life he knew with his sister. 

"The decision is yours and yours alone, Ethan..." Christopher gulps for air. "All I ask is that you call for me when... when it's time." Q finally looks up at the man, his partner in his horrific situation. 

"What would you do in this situation, Chris?" Q whispers, the magnitude crushing him into an inability to move. 

"I will wait for her for the rest of my life, and beyond that. She is my everything." He pauses, tears still leaking from his tired, pain filled eyes. "But... if she wakes, which she may never do... she won't be  _her_... she won't be Melanie." He lets the meaning behind his words hang in the air, sniffing. "I'll send for a second bed and hot food, fuck you look like death yourself, E." Christopher says finally, standing to leave. He kisses Melanie gently on the forehead, on a clear space where Q had been too frightened to. 

"Thank you." Q whispers, staring at her hand which was placed carefully next to her, the ring she always wore shining, surprisingly intact on her forefinger. 

 

He was slumped against against the radiator, almost catatonic, when James found Q several hours later after another cot had been moved next to his sister. 

"Jesus, Q..." He breathes, moving carefully into the room. Q gave no indication he knew James was there much less whether he recognised him or not. James sensed that Q was liable to break any moment, like a trapped animal. And no trapped animal is pleasant to deal with, especially not one with MI6 level training. He treated Q as such, slowly approaching the young man. He sits cautiously next to his younger, stomach churning at how vulnerable he looked. 

"I thought you were in Russia." Q mumbles, not trusting his voice, not looking over or giving any indication that he had even spoken. 

"I got home as fast as I could once I heard you were not in the office. M wouldn't let me come home early though." James replies, cautiously bumping then resting his knee next to Q's a silent signal that Q was not alone through this, hoping that he would take some comfort in the heat seeping through their trousers. 

"Oh." Is all Q can muster as a response, he isn't even thankful that James wasn't killed abroad, at this point it would have just been another part of his life that was out of control and cruel. 

"When was the last time you washed? Slept? Ate? Hell even had a drink?" Bond asks, studying Q intensely, an increasing feeling of sick and worry building the longer he looked. 

"I don't know." Q admitted, still not looking around at him. 

"Come on." Bond stood up, gently pulling the Quartermaster onto his feet, taking some of his weight. "Want me to help you shower?" James asks, truly half scared that Q will collapse in the shower. 

"No." Q shakes his head, gripping onto Bond's arm as the room spins before his eyes. "Stay with her." And with that he detaches himself from the elder, stumbling to the bathroom. 

While Q was in the shower, food arrived with the rest of the ward's. It was hospital food but at least it was hot and solid. James manages to coax about half down with a lot of water before they come to collect the plates an hour and a half later. He guides Q to the other cot, close enough to touch Melanie if he needed the physical reassurance and after little argument but a promise to stay, Q fell asleep. 

 

Q wakes disorientated, focusing immediately on Melanie. A small amount of relief washed over him, the first emotion he remembers having in days, at the sight of her still... well not exactly alive but also not dead. He slowly becomes aware of another presence in the room. James... when did he get here? The agent looks strained, sat in the other hard plastic chair across from Q. 

"Good morning, Q." He smiles, the light not reaching his eyes. 

"Jamie." Q replies, not bothering to smile. "Oh god, James. What a mess." He groans, the weight and reality crashing back into his consciousness. 

"Christopher came through when you were asleep." James whispers. "He tells me you have a decision to make." James opens his arms, a move completely unlike himself, but then again, this is not exactly a normal situation. Q presses into him, leaning heavily into his side, head resting above his heart.

The beat was strong and rhythmic, the sound both comforting and painful. Tears burn at Q's eyes as he lies there, letting them leak onto Jame's shirt. James said nothing, just tightening his arm around Q as he slowly sobs into him. It was the first time Q had cried, it was the first time he hadn't felt anything but numb through this whole thing. The reality and weight crashing over him in waves.

He becomes aware of several things while sitting against James, watching his sister artificially breathe. One was that nothing could have prepared him for this, the second was that he is very grateful for James and the third, it was time. 

"Jamie?" Q half mumbles, he waits for Bond to respond before he continues, taking any opportunity to stall. "I... It's time." 

 

Q still has no concept of time, not being able to remember how long he had been in the same room then passing out, he couldn't tell if it was seconds or hours until Christopher arrived with Dr Abraham. It felt like years sitting against James, listening to his heartbeat and second guessing himself. 

"Sign here... here... and here." Dr Abraham pointed to several dotted lines which Q signed without looking, eyes only on Melanie. He leaves to file the work, the room has an eerie peace about it, Q holding Christopher's hand while James stands, the silent vigil on the other side of her. "We will remove the equipment, she won't wake but her heart may beat for several more hours, we cannot say when the last breath will be. You are free to stay with her." He bows his head before leaving, making way for the nurses to pull the various tubes out of her. Q just watches her, she suddenly looks a whole lot more frail now, more so then when the life support was in. The silence stretches eternally before them, all three watching her chest rise and fall, it wasn't gentle like sleep, more shallow and struggling.

"Mels, I'm sorry." Christopher starts and Q's heart wrenches. "We had so many plans, going to India, Thailand." He strokes her hair with his free hand. "What you didn't know... is that in Thailand I was going to ask you to marry me... I was going to f...fly everyone out there and surprise you." He sobs and Q feels a fresh batch of tears falling. "I love you, I always have and I always will. I'll always be here, and you'll always be my wife. I love you." Christopher gasps, grasping her hand tightly. He sits, dissolving into wracking sobs, head resting on her stomach.

"Melanie, my Mel." Q whispers, feeling compelled to say something. "All I can say is I'm sorry. I'm sorry for every bad word we have shared, how I wasn't there as much as I should have been. I'm sorry that you haven't managed to get a full life when I... When I will carry on breathing... and living, even though I don't deserve it. I'm sorry you've never got married or had children. You won't see the sun rise or set, won't see the moon or the sun again. I promise I'm going to find the man who did this, and I promise to look after Chris. I'm sorry you never got to meet James, he's a really nice pain in the ass... You would have got along so well." The pain is as clear as sunlight as he rambles aimlessly, unable to convey exactly what he wants to say. "I'm sorry I've p... pulled the plug, but we both know it's what you would have wanted. I think this is the longest time you've ever spent in any bed. It's just.... just.... I love you... You are my closest friend, always will be." Q leaning in close. "And I finally found someone I like." His tear filled eyes meet James's who opens his arms again. 

Q stands, letting the protective cage of Bond's arm comfort him. He couldn't look anymore, he couldn't look at  _her_ , he couldn't look at her future. Waves of pain crushed the air from Q's lungs and suddenly he couldn't breathe, not enough oxygen was getting into his system and all he could do was choke. Bond just moved his hands up and down Q's back, a quite stream of 'shh, shh, you'll be okay, shh." pouring from him like a litany.  He felt every inch of Q shudder and shake, gasping, choking and crying. His heart ached like someone had reached into his chest and pulled it out. 

Eventually the tears ran dry and were replaced by hiccups, somehow Q thought they were worse than the uncontrollable sobbing, they wracked through him leaving a horrible painful ache. Still though, he didn't move, almost like he was glued to Bond. Now he was coming around a little, it did seem odd and completely unprofessional but somehow nice and comforting, like he should be there. It was most certainly not unpleasant. It felt like if he never moved, he would never have to do anything again, like time had stopped. He took comfort from the fact he wouldn't be alone through this, without speaking he knew James wouldn't leave him now, in whatever capacity he was... Not that Q classed them as anything other than work colleagues, maybe now even friends. 

Yeah... Not that he felt anything else...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was another hard topic to write about as my Dad was admitted at Easter (he's back out though sketchy), Mum in July (she's completely fine again) and a friend died a few days ago. I guess that was what gave me the final shove to finish this, it gave me the grief and need to finish it and shove it in a draw where I can't find it again for a while. I hope that it is okay for everyone, my door is always open. 
> 
> -Chaos


End file.
